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“l SWEAR TO PERFORM MY DUTIES AS REGENT, AND TO TAKE CARE OF 

HIS MAJESTY.” [PAGE II.] 










I U8RARY of CONGRE^ 

* Two Cooles Received 

JUU 20 i 907 

Cepyrijfht Entry 
kCLASS^ NOi 

COPY U. 


COPYRIGHT, 1907 
BY 

BREWER, BARSE & CO. 




ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

I SWEAR TO PERFORM MY DUTIES AS ReGENT^ AND TO TAKE 

CARE OF HIS Majesty Frontispiece ' 

“I Must kiss him^ I am his God Mother^' 8 

And twisting himself around^ what do you think he 

SAW? 1 6 

Prince Dolor made a snatch at the topmost twig of 

THE TALLEST TREE 24 , 

The Prince gazed earnestly down into the largest 

ROOM HE HAD EVER BEHELD 32 

He lifted up his thin^ slender hand^ and there came 

A silence over the vast crowd immediately . . 40 




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THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE 


CHAPTER I. 

He was the most beautiful prince that ever was born. 

Being a prince, people said this; and it was true. 
When he looked at the candle, his eyes had an earnest 
expression quite startling in a new-born baby. His 
nose was aquiline; his complexion was healthy; he was 
round, fat, and straight-limbed — a splendid baby. 

His father and mother. King and Queen of Nomans- 
land, and their subjects were proud and happy, having 
waited ten years for an heir. The only person not 
quite happy was the king’s brother, who would have 
been king had the 'baby not been born, but his Ma- 
jesty was very kind to him, and gave him a Dukedom 
as large as a country. 

The Prince’s christening was to be a grand affair; 
there were chosen for him four and twenty godfathers 
and godmothers, who each had to give him a name, 
and promise to do their utmost for him. When he 
came of age, he himself had to choose the name — and 
the godfather or godmother — that he liked best. 

All was rejoicing and the rich gave dinners and 
feasts for the poor. 

The only quiet place in the Palace was the room, 
which though the prince was six weeks old, his mother, 
the Queen, had not quitted. Nobody thought she was ill 
as she said nothing about it herself, but lay pale and 
placid, giving no trouble to anybody. 

Christening day came at last and it was as lovely as 
the Prince himself. All the people in the Palace were 
beautifully dressed in the clothes which the Queen had 
given them. 


6 


The Little Lame Prince 


By six in the morning all the royal household had 
dressed itself in its very best; and then the little Prince 
was dressed in his magnificent christening robe ; which 
he did not like at all, but kicked and screamed like any 
common baby. When he had calmed down, they car- 
ried him to the bed where the Queen lay. 

She kissed and blessed him, and then she gave him 
up with a gentle smile, saying she “hoped he would be 
very good, that it would be a very nice christening, and 
all the guests would enjoy themselves,” and turned 
peacefully over on her bed. She was a very uncom- 
plaining person — the Queen, and her name was 
Dolorez. 

Everything went on as if she had been present. All, 
even the King himself, had grown used to her absence, 
for she was not strong, and for years had not joined in 
the gaieties. The noble company arrived from many 
countries ; also the four-and-twenty godfathers and god- 
mothers, who had been chosen with care, as the people 
who would be most useful to his Royal Highness 
should he ever want friends. 

They came, walking two and two, with their coronets 
on their heads — dukes and duchesses, princes and prin- 
cesses; they all kissed the child and pronuonced the 
name which each had given him. Then the four-and- 
twenty names were shouted out, one after another, and 
written down, to be kept in the state records. 

Everybody was satisfied except the little Prince, who 
moaned faintly under his christening robes, which 
nearly smothered him. 

Though very few knew it, the Prince in coming to 
the chapel had met with an accident. A young lady of 
rank, whose duty it was to carry him to and from the 
chapel, had been so busy arranging her train with one 
hand, that she stumbled and let him fall. She picked 
him up — the accident was so slight it seemed hardly 
worth speaking of. The baby had turned pale, but did 


The Little Lame Prince 


7 


not cry. No one knew that anything was wrong. Even 
if he had moaned, the silver trumpets were loud enough 
to drown his voice. It would have been a pity to let 
anything trouble such a day. 

Such a procession! Heralds in blue and silver; 
pages in crimson and gold; and a troop of little girls in 
dazzling white, carrying baskets of flowers, which they 
strewed all the way before the child and the nurse, — 
finally the four and twenty godfathers and godmothers, 
splendid to look at. 

The prince was a mere heap of lace and muslin, and 
had it not been for a canopy of white satin and ostrich 
feathers, which was held over him whenever he was 
carried, his presence would have been unnoticed. 

“It is just like fairyland,’’ said one little flower-girl 
to another, “and I think the only thing the Prince wants 
now is a fairy godmother.” 

“Does he?” said a shrill, but soft and not unpleasant 
voice, and a person no larger than a child was seen. 

She was a pleasant little, old, grey-haired, grey- 
eyed woman, dressed all in grey. 

“Take care and don’t let the baby fall again.” 

The grand nurse started, flushing angrily. 

“Old woman, you will be kind enough not to say, 
‘the baby,’ but ‘the Prince.’ Keep away; his Royal 
Highness is just going to sleep.” 

“I must kiss him, I am his godmother.” 

“You!” cried the elegant lady-nurse. 

“You!!” cried all the Court and the heralds began 
to blow the silver trumpets, to stop the conversation. 

As the procession formed to return, the old woman 
stood on the topmost step, and stretched herself on tip- 
toe by the help of her stick, and gave the little Prince 
three kisses. 

“Take yourself out of the way,” cried the nurse, “or 
the king shall be informed immediately.” 

“The King knows nothing of me,” replied the old 


The Little Lame Prince 


woman, with an indifferent air. “My friend in the pal- 
ace is the King’s wife.” I know her Majesty well, and 
I love her and her child. And since you dropped him 
on the marble stairs I choose to take him for my own. 
I am his godmother, ready to help him whenever he 
wants me.” 

“You help him!” cried the group laughing. The 
little old woman paid no attention and her soft grey 
eyes were fixed on the Prince, who smiled back at her. 

“His Majesty shall hear of this,” said a gentleman- 
in-waiting. 

“His Majesty will hear quite enough news in a min- 
ute or two,” said the old woman sadly, kissing the little 
Prince on the forehead. “Be Prince Dolor, in memory 
of your mother Dolorez.” Everybody started. 

“Old woman, you are exceedingly ill-bred,” cried 
a lady-in-waiting. Even if you did know, how dared 
you presume to hint that her most gracious Majesty is 
called Dolorez?” 

“Was called Dolorez,” said the old woman with a 
tender solemnity. 

The first gentleman, called the Gold-stick-in-waiting, 
raised the stick to strike her, and all the rest stretched 
out their hands to seize her; but the gray mantle melted 
from between their fingers; and there came a heavy, 
muffled sound. 

The great bell of the palace — the bell which was only 
heard on the death of some of the Royal family, and 
for as many times as he or she was years old — began to 
toll. They listened. Some one counted: “one-two- 
three-four” — up to nine and twenty — just the Queen’s 
age. 

The Queen, her Majesty, was dead. In the midst of 
the festivities she had passed away. When the little 
prince w^as carried back to his mother’s room, there 
was no mother to kiss him. 

As for his godmother — the little old woman in grey, 
nobody knew what became of her. 



“l MUST KISS HIM,” “l AM HIS GODMOTHER.” [PAGE 7.] 





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CHAPTER 11. 


It could not be said that the Prince missed his mother ; 
children of his age cannot do that; but somehow, after 
she died everything seemed to go wrong with him. 
From a beautiful baby he became pale and sickly, 
seeming to have almost ceased growing, especially in 
his legs, which had been so fat and strong. But after 
the day of his christening they withered, and when he 
was nearly a year old, and his nurse tried to make him 
stand, he only tumbled down. 

This happened so many times that at last people 
began to talk about it. A prince, and not able to stand 
on his legs ! What a misfortune to the country! 

After a time he became stronger and his body grew, 
but his limbs remained shrunken. No one talked of this 
to the King, for he was very sad. 

The King desired that the Prince should keep the 
name given him by the little old woman in grey and 
so he was known as Dolor. 

Once a week, according to established state custom, 
the Prince, dressed in his very best, was brought to the 
King, his father, for half an hour, but his Majesty was 
too melancholy to pay much attention to the child. 

Only once, when the King and his brother were sit- 
ting together, with Prince Dolor playing in a corner 
of the room, dragging himself about with his arms, 
rather than his legs, it seemed to strike the father that 
all was not right with his son. 

“How old is his Royal Highness?” said he, suddenly, 
to the nurse. 

“Two years, three months, and five days, please your 
Majesty.” 


9 


'lO The Little Lame Prince 

“It does not please me,’’ said the King with a sigh. 
“He ought to be far more forward than he is. Is there 
not something wrong about him?” 

“Oh, no,” said the King’s brother, exchanging mean- 
ing looks with the nurse. Nothing to make your 
Majesty at all uneasy. No doubt his Royal Highness 
will outgrow it in time.” 

“Out-grow what?” 

“A slight delicacy — ahem ! — in the spine — something 
inherited, perhaps, from his dear mother.” 

“Ah, she was always delicate ; but she was the sweetest 
woman that ever lived. Come here, my little son.” 

The Prince turned to his father a small, sweet, grave 
face — like his mother’s, and the King smiled and held 
out his arms. But when the boy came to him, not run- 
ning like a boy, but wriggling awkwardly along the 
floor, the royal countenance clouded. 

“I ought to have been told of this. Send for all the 
doctors in my kingdom immediately.” 

They came, and agreed in what had been pretty well 
known before; that the prince must have been hurt 
when he was an infant. Did anybody remember? 

No, nobody. Indignantly, all the nurses denied that 
any such accident had happened. 

But of all this the King knew nothing, for, indeed, 
after the first shock of finding out that his son could not 
walk, and seemed never likely to walk, he interfered 
very little concering him. He could not walk; his 
limbs were mere useless additions to his body, but the 
body itself was strong and sound, and his face was the 
same as ever — just like his mother’s face, one of the 
sweetest in the world! 

Even the King, indifferent as he was, sometimes 
looked at the little fellow with sad tenderness, noticing 
how cleverly he learned to crawl, and swing himself 
about by his arms, so that in his own awkward way he 
was as active as most children of his age. 


The Little Lame Prince 


1 1 

‘Toor little man! he does his best, and he is not un- 
happy,” said the King to his brother. “I have ap- 
pointed you as Regent. In case of my death, you will 
take care of my poor little boy?” 

Soon after he said this, the King died, as suddenly and 
quietly as the Queen had done, and Prince Dolor was 
left without either father or mother — as sad a thing 
as could happen, even to a Prince. 

He was more than that now, though. He was a king. 
In Nomansland as in other countries, the people were 
struck with grief one day and revived the next. ^‘The 
king is dead — long live the king!” was the cry that rang 
through the nation, and almost before his late Majesty 
had been laid beside the queen, crowds came thronging 
from all parts to the royal palace, eager to see the new 
monarch. 

They did see him — sitting on the floor of the council- 
chamber, sucking his thumb! And when one of the 
gentlemen-in-waiting lifted him up and carried him to 
the chair of state, and put the crown on his head, he 
shook it off again, it was so heavy and uncomfortable. 
Sliding down to the foot of the throne, he began play- 
ing with the gold lions that supported it; — laughing 
as if he had at last found something to amuse him. 

“It is very unfortunate,” said one of the lords. It is 
always bad for a nation when its king is a child; but 
such a child — a permanent cripple, if not worse.” 

“Let us hope not worse,” said another lord in a very 
hopeless tone, and looking towards the Regent, who 
stood erect and pretended to hear nothing. “I have 
heard that these kind of children with very large heads 
and great broad foreheads and staring eyes, are — ^well, 
well, let us hope for the best and be prepared for the 
worst. In the meantime — ” 

“Come forth and kiss the hilt of his sword ” said the 
Regent — “I swear to perform my duties as Regent, to 
take care of his Majesty, and I shall do my humble best 
to govern the country. 


12 


The Little Lame Prince 


Whenever the Regent and his sons appeared, they 
were received with shouts — “Long live the Regent!” 
“Long live the Royal family!” 

As for the other child, his Royal Highness Prince 
Dolor — somehow people soon ceased to call him his 
Majesty, which seemed such a ridiculous title for a 
poor little fellow, a helpless cripple, with only head and 
trunk, and no legs to speak of — he was seen very seldom 
by anybody. 

Sometimes people daring to peer over the high wall 
of the palace garden noticed there a pretty little crip- 
pled boy with large dreamy, thoughtful eyes, beneath 
the grave glance of which wrongdoers felt uneasy, and, 
although they did not know it then, the sight of him 
bearing his affliction made them better. 

If anybody had said that Prince Dolor’s uncle was 
cruel, he would have said that what he did was for the 
good of the country. 

Therefore he went one day to the council-chamber, 
informed the ministers and the country that the young 
King was in failing health, and that it would be best to 
send him for a time to the Beautiful Mountains where 
his mother was born. 

Soon after he obtained an order to send the King 
away — ^which was done in great state. The nation 
learned, without much surprise, that the poor little 
Prince — had fallen ill on the road and died within a 
few hours; so declared the physician in attendance, and 
the nurse who had been sent to take care of him. They 
brought the coffin back in great state, and buried him 
with his parents. 

The country went into deep mourning for him, and 
then forgot him, and his uncle reigned in his stead. 


CHAPTER III. 


And what of the little lame prince, whom everybody 
seemed so easily to have forgotten? 

Not everybody. There were a few kind souls, mothers 
of families, who had heard his sad story, and some ser- 
vants about the palace, who had been familiar with his 
sweet ways — these many a time sighed and said, ‘‘Poor 
Prince Dolor!” Or, looking at the Beautiful Moun- 
tains, which were visible all over Nomansland, though 
few people ever visited them, “Well, perhaps his Royal 
Highness is better where he is.” 

They did not know that beyond the mountains, be- 
tween them and the sea, lay a tract of country, level, 
barren, except for a short stunted grass, and here and 
there a patch of tiny flowers. Not a bush — not a tree — 
not a resting place for bird or beast in that dreary 
plain. It was not a pleasant place to live. 

The only sign that human creatures had ever been 
near the spot was a large round tower which rose up in 
the centre of the plain. In form it resembled the Irish 
round towers, which have puzzled people for so long, 
nobody being able to find out when, or by whom they 
were made. It was circular, of very firm brickwork, 
with neither doors nor windows, until near the top, when 
you could perceive some slits in the wall, through which 
one could not possibly creep in or look out. Its height 
was nearly a hundred feet. 

The plain was desolate, like a desert, only without 
sand, and led to nowhere except the still more desolate 
sea-coast; nobody ever crossed it. Whatever mystery 
there was about the tower, it and the sky and the plain 
kept to themselves. 


13 


14 The Little Lame Prince 

It was a very great secret indeed, a state secret, which 
none but so clever a man as the present king of Nomans- 
land would ever have thought of. How he carried it 
out, undiscovered, I cannot tell. People said, long after- 
wards, that it was by means of a gang of condemned 
criminals, who were set to work, and executed imme- 
diately after they had done, so that nobody knew any- 
thing, or in the least suspected the real fact. 

Within twenty feet of the top, some ingenious archi- 
tect had planned a perfect little house, divided into 
four rooms. By making skylights, and a few slits in 
the walls for windows, and raising a peaked roof which 
was hidden by the parapet, here was a dwelling com- 
plete; eighty feet from the ground and hard to reach. 

Inside it was furnished with all the comfort and ele- 
gance imaginable; with lots of books and toys, and 
everything that the heart of a child could desire. 

One winter night, when all the plain was white with 
moonlight, there was seen crossing it, a great tall, black 
horse, ridden by a man also big and equally black, car- 
rying before him on the saddle a woman and a child. 
The sad fierce-looking woman was a criminal under 
sentence of death, but her sentence had been changed. 
She was to inhabit the lonely tower with the child ; she 
was to live as long as the child lived — no longer. This, 
in order that she might take the utmost care of him; 
for those who put him there were equally afraid of his 
d3dng and of his living. And yet he was only a little 
gentle boy, with a sweet smile. He was very tired with 
his long journey and was clinging to the man’s neck, 
for he was rather frightened. 

The tired little boy was Prince Dolor. He was not 
dead at all. His grand funeral had been a pretence; 
a wax figure having been put in his place, while 
he was spirited away by the condemned woman and the 
black man. The latter was deaf and dumb, so could 
tell nothing. 


The Little Lame Prince 


15 


When they reached the foot of the tower, there was 
light enough to see a huge chain dangling half way from 
the parapet. The deaf mute took from his saddle-wallet 
a sort of ladder, arranged in pieces like a puzzle, fitted 
it together, and lifted it up to meet the chain. Then he 
mounted to the top of the tower, and slung from it a 
chair, in which the woman and child placed themselves 
and were drawn up, never to come down again. The 
man descended the ladder, took it to pieces and disap- 
peared across the plain. Every month he came and 
fastened his horse to the foot of the tower and climbed 
it as before, laden with provisions and many other 
things. He always saw the Prince, so as to make sure 
that the child was alive and well, and then went away 
until the following month. 

Prince Dolor had every luxury that even a Prince 
could need, and the one thing wanting — love, never 
having known, he did not miss. His nurse was very 
kind to him, though she was a wicked woman. Perhaps 
it made her better to be shut up with an innocent child. 

By-and-by he began to learn lessons — not that his 
nurse had been ordered to teach him, but she did it 
partly to amuse herself. She was not a stupid woman, 
and Prince Dolor was by no means a stupid child; so 
they got on very well. 

When he grew older he began reading the books 
which the mute brought to him. As they told him of 
the things in the outside world he longed to see them. 

From this time a change came over the boy. He be- 
gan to look sad and thin, and to shut himself up for 
hours without speaking. His nurse had been forbidden, 
on pain of death, to tell him anything about himself. 
He knew he was Prince Dolor, because she always ad- 
dressed him as ‘My prince” and “your Royal High- 
ness,” but what a prince was, he had not the least idea. 

He had been reading one day, but feeling all the 
while that to read about things which you never can 


i6 


The Little Lame Prince 


see is like hearing about a beautiful dinner while you 
are starving. He grew melancholy, gazing out of the 
window-slit. 

Not a very cheerful view — just the plain and the sky 
— but he liked it. He used to think, if he could only fly 
out of that window, up to the sky or down to the plain, 
how nice it would be! Perhaps when he died — his 
nurse had told him once in anger that he would never 
leave the tower till he died — ^he might be able to do 
this. 

“And I wish I had somebody to tell me all about it; 
about that and many other things ; somebody that would 
be fond of me, like my poor white kitten.” 

Here the tears came into his eyes, for the boy’s one 
friend had been a little white kitten, which the deaf 
mute, kindly smiling, once took out of his pocket and 
gave him. For four weeks it was his constant companion 
and plaything, till one moonlight night it took a fancy 
for wandering, climbed on to the parapet of the tower, 
dropped over and disappeared. It was not killed, he 
hoped; indeed, he almost fancied he saw it pick itself 
up and scamper away, but he never caught sight of it 
again. 

“Yes, I wish I had a person, a real live person, who 
would be fond of me and kind to me. Oh, I want some- 
body — ^dreadfully, dreadfully!” 

As he spoke, there sounded behind him a slight tap- 
tap-tap, as of a cane, and twisting himself around, what 
do you think he saw? A curious little woman, no bigger 
than he might himself have been, had his legs grown, 
but she was not a child^ — she was an old woman with a 
sweet smile and a soft voice, and was carrying a cane. 

“My own little boy,” she said, “I could not come to 
you until you had said you wanted me, but now you do 
want me, here I am.” 

“And you are very welcome, madam,” replied the 
Prince. “May I ask you who you are? Perhaps my 
mother?” 



AND TWISTING HIMSELF AROUND, WHAT DO YOU THINK HE SAW? 

[page 1 6 .] 







The Little Lame Prince 


17 


“No, I am not your mother, though she was a dear 
friend of mine.” 

“Will you tell her to come and see me then?” 

“She cannot; but I daresay she knows all about you 
and loves you. I love you, too, and I want to help you, 
my poor little boy.” 

“Why do you call me poor?” asked Prince Dolor in 
surprise. 

The little old woman sighed and glanced down at his 
legs and feet, which he did not know were different 
from those of other children, and then to his sweet, 
bright face. 

“I beg your pardon, My Prince,” said she. 

“Yes, I am a prince, and my name is Dolor; will you 
tell me yours, madam?” 

The little old woman laughed like a chime of silver 
bells. 

“I have so many that I don’t know which to choose. 
It was I who gave you yours, and you will belong ta 
me all your days. I am your godmother.” 

“Hurrah!” cried the little prince; “I am glad I be- 
long to you, for I like you very much.” 

So they sat down and played and talked together. 

“Are you very lonesome here?” asked the little old 
woman. 

“Not particularly, thank you, godmother. I have my 
lessons to do, and my books to read.” 

“And you want for nothing?” 

“Nothing. Yes, godmother, please bring me a little 
boy to play with?” 

“Just the thing, alas, which I cannot give you.” 

His godmother took him in her arms and kissed him. 
By-and-by he kissed her at first awkwardly and shyly, 
then with all the strength of his warm little heart. 

“Promise me that you will never go away, god-^ 
mother.” 

“I must, but I will leave you a travelling cloak that 


The Little Lame Prince 


will take you wherever you want to go, and show you 
all that you wish to see.” 

“I don’t need a cloak, for I never go out.” 

“Hush! the nurse is coming.” 

A grumpy voice and a rattle of plates and dishes was 
heard. 

“It’s my nurse, bringing my dinner; but I don’t want 
dinner. I only want you. Will her coming drive you 
away, godmother?” 

“Only for a while, only wish for me and I will re- 
turn.” 

When the door opened. Prince Dolor shut his eyes; 
opening them again, nobody but his nurse was in the 
room, as his godmother had melted away. 

“Such a heap of untidy books; and what’s this rub- 
bish?” said she, kicking a little bundle that lay beside 
them. 

“Give it to me,” cried the Prince; and reaching after 
it, he hid it under his pinafore. 

It was, though she did not know this, his wonderful 
travelling-cloak. 


CHAPTER IV. 

The cloak outside, was the commonest looking bundle 
imaginable — Dolor touched it; it grew smaller, and he 
put it into his trouser’s pocket and kept it there until 
he had a chance to look at it. 

It seemed but a mere piece of cloth, dark green in 
color, being worn and shabby, though not dirty. 

Prince Dolor examined it curiously; spread it out on 
the floor, then arranged it on his shoulders. It felt com- 
fortable; but was the only shabby thing the Prince had 
ever seen in his life. 

^‘And what use will it be to me?” said he sadly, “and 
what in the world shall I do with it?” 

He folded it carefully and put it away in a safe cor- 
ner of his toy-cupboard. After a time he nearly forgot 
the cloak and his godmother. Sometimes though, he 
recalled her sweet pleasant face; but as she never came, 
she gradually slipped out of his memory, until some- 
thing happened which made him remember her, and 
want her as he had never wanted anything before. 

Prince Dolor fell ill. He caught a complaint com- 
mon to the people of Nomansland, called the doldrums, 
which made him restless, cross and disagreeable. Even 
when a little better, he was too weak to enjoy anything, 
but lay all day alone. 

“I wonder what my godmother meant when she 
looked at my legs and sighed so bitterly? Why can’t 
I walk like my nurse. It would be very nice to move 
about quickly or fly like a bird. How nice it must be to 
be a bird. If legs are no good, why can one not have 
wings? I am so tired and no one cares for me, except 
perhaps my godmother. Godmother, dear, have you 
forsaken me?” 


19 


20 


The Little Lame Prince 


He stretched himself wearily, gathered himself up, 
and dropped his head upon his hands; as he did so, he 
felt somebody kiss him on the back of his neck, and 
turning, found that he was resting on the warm shoulder 
of the little old woman. 

How glad he was to see her. He put both his arms 
around her neck and kissed her lovingly. 

“Stop, stop!” cried she, pretending to be smothered. 
“Only just let me have breath to speak one word. Tell 
me what has happened to you since I saw you.” 

“Nothing has happened,” answered the Prince some- 
what dolefully. 

“And are you very unhappy, my boy?” 

“So unhappy, that I was just thinking whether I 
could not jump down to the bottom of the tower.” 

“You must be content to stay where you are,” said the 
little old woman, “for you are a prince, and must behave 
as such — where is your traveling-cloak?” 

Prince Dolor blushed. “I — I put it away in the 
cup-board; I suppose it is there still.” 

“You have never used it; you dislike it?” 

He hesitated, not wishing to be impolite. “Don’t 
you think it’s just a little old and shabby for a prince?” 

The old woman laughed very sweetly. 

“Why, if all the princes in the world craved for it, 
they couldn’t get it, unless I gave it to them. Old and 
shabby! It’s the most valuable thing imaginable? I 
thought I would give it to you, because — because you 
are different from other people.” 

“Am I?” asked the prince with tears in his eyes. 

She touched his poor little legs. “These are not like 
the legs of other little boys.” 

“Indeed! — my nurse never told me that.” 

“I tell you, because I love you.” 

“Tell me what, dear godmother?” 

“That you will never be able to walk, or run, or 


The Little Lame Prince 


21 


jump, but your life may be a very happy life for all 
that. Do not be afraid.” 

‘‘I am not afraid,” said the boy, and his lip began to 
quiver, though he did not cry. 

Though he did not Avholly understand, he began to 
guess what his godmother meant. He had never seen 
any real live boys, but he had seen pictures of them; 
running and jumping; which he had admired and tried 
hard to imitate, but always failed. Now, he began to 
understand that we cannot always have things as we 
want them, but as they are, and that we must learn 
to bear them and make the best of them. 

She comforted him and whispered in her sweet, 
strong, cheerful voice — ‘^Never mind!” 

‘^No, I don’t think I do mind, that is, I won’t mind.” 

“That is right. My Prince! Let us put our should- 
ers to the wheel — ” 

“We are in Hopeless Tower and there is no wheel 
to put our shoulders to,” said the child sadly. 

“You little matter-of-fact goose! Well for you that 
you have a godmother called — “Stufif and Nonsense.” 

“Stuff and Nonsense ! What a funny name !” 

“Some people give it to me, but they are not my most 
intimate friends. You may give me any name you 
please; but I am your godmother. I have few god- 
children; those I have love me dearly, and find me 
the greatest blessing in all the world.” 

“I can well believe it,” cried the little lame Prince.” 

“Bring the cloak out of the rubbish cupboard, and 
shake the dust off it, quick!” said she to Prince Dolor. 
“Spread it out on the floor, and wait till the split closes 
and the edges turn up. Then open the skylight, set your- 
self on the cloak, and say, ‘Abracadabra, dum dum 
dum,’ and — see what will happen!” 

The Prince burst into a fit of laughing. It all 
seemed so exceedingly silly, and his godmother 
laughed too. 


22 


The Little Lame Prince 


‘‘Believe me or not, it doesn’t matter,” said she. “Here 
is the cloak; when you want to go travelling on it, say, 
Abracadabra dum dum dum ; when you want to come 
back again, say. Abracadabra turn turn ti. That’s all, 
good-bye.” 

A puff of pleasant air and his godmother was gone. 

“How rosy your Royal Highness’s cheeks are! You 
seem to have grown better,” said the nurse entering the 
room. 

“I have,” replied the Prince — he felt kindly, even 
to his grim nurse. “Let me have my dinner, and you 
go to your sewing.” 

The instant she was gone, Prince Dolor sprang from 
his sofa, and with one or two of his frog-like jumps, he 
reached the cupboard where he kept his toys, and 
looked everywhere for his traveling-cloak. 

Alas! It was not there. 

While he was ill, his nurse, had made a grand clear- 
ance of all his “rubbish,” all the treasures of his baby 
days, which he could not bear to part with. Though 
he seldom played with them now, he liked just to feel 
they were there. 

They were all gone! and with them the traveling 
cloak. He sat down on the floor, looking at the empty 
shelves, then burst out sobbing as if his heart would 
break. 

“And it is all my own fault,” he cried. “I ought to 
have taken better care of my godmother’s gift. Oh, 
godmother, forgive me! I’ll never be so careless again. 
I’ll never be so careless again. I don’t know what the 
cloak is exactly, but I am sure it is something precious. 
Help me to find it again. Oh, don’t let it be stolen from 
me — don’t please.” 

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed a silvery voice. “Why, that 
traveling-cloak is the one thing in the world which no- 
body can steal. It is of no use to anybody except the 
owner. Open your eyes, and see what you can see.” 


The Little Lame Prince 


2.1 


His dear old godmother, he thought, and turned ea- 
gerly round. But no ; he only beheld, lying in a corner 
of the room, his precious traveling-cloak. 

Prince Dolor darted towards it, tumbling several 
times on the way. Snatching it to his breast, he hugged 
and kissed it. Then he began unrolling it, wondering 
each minute what would happen. 


CHAPTER V. 

No doubt you think Prince Dolor was unhappy. 
If you had seen him as he sat patiently untying 
his wonderful cloak, which was done up in a very 
tight parcel, using his deft little hands, and knitting his 
brows with determination, while his eyes glistened with 
pleasure, you might have changed your opinion. 

When Prince Dolor had carefully untied all the 
knots, the cloak began to undo itself. Slowly unfold- 
ing, it laid itself down on the carpet, as flat as if it had 
been ironed; the split joined with a little sharp crick- 
crack, and the rim turned up all round till it was 
breast-high; for the meantime the cloak had grown 
and grown, and become quite large enough for one 
person to sit in it, as comfortable as if in a boat. 

The Prince watched it rather anxiously; it was such 
an extraordinary thing. However, he was no coward, 
but a thorough boy, who, if he had been like other boys, 
would doubtless have grown up daring and adventurous 
— a soldier — a sailor, or the like. As it was, he could 
only show his courage by being afraid of nothing, and 
by doing boldly all that was in his power. And I am 
not sure but that in this way he showed more real valor 
than if he had had six pairs of proper legs. 

He said to himself, “What a goose I am! As if my 
dear godmother would ever have given me anything 
to hurt me. Here goes !” 

So, with one of his active leaps, he sprang right into 
the middle of the cloak, where he squatted down, wrap- 
ping his arms tight round his knees, for they shook a 
little and his heart beat fast. But there he sat, waiting 
for what might happen next. 


24 



PRINCE DOLOR MADE A SNATCH AT THE TOPMOST TWIG OF THE TALL- 
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The Little Lame Prince 


2i; 

Nothing did happen, and he began to think nothing 
would when he recollected the words, “Abracadabra, 
dum, dum, dum!” 

He repeated them, laughing all the while, they 
seemed such nonsense. And then — and then — 

The cloak rose, slowly and steadily at first, only a few 
inches, then gradually higher and higher, till it nearly 
touched the skylight. Prince Dolor’s head actually 
bumped against the glass. 

Then he suddenly remembered his godmother’s com- 
mand — “Open the skylight!” 

Without a mo»^ent’s delay he began searching for 
the bolt, the cloaK xc ’ning balanced in the air. The 
minute the window was op "d, out it sailed — right into 
the clear fresh air, with notn. between it and the 
cloudless blue. Prince Dolor had never felt such 
delicious sensation before. 

The happiness of the Prince cannot oe described, 
when he got out of Hopeless Tower, and found him- 
self for the first time in the pure open air, with the 
sky above him and the earth below. 

True, there was nothing but earth and sky; no houses, 
no trees, no rivers, mountains, seas — ;not a beast on the 
ground, or a bird in the air. But to him even the level 
plain looked beautiful; and then there was the glorious 
arch of the sky, with a little young moon sitting in the 
west like a baby queen. And the evening breeze was 
so sweet and fresh, it kissed him like his godmother’s 
kisses ; and by-and-by a few stars came out, first two or 
three, and then quantities — quantities! so that when he 
began to count them, he was utterly bewildered. 

By this time, however, the breeze had become cold 
and as he had, as he said, no outdoor clothes, poor 
Prince Dolor began to shiver. 

“Perhaps I had better go home,” thought he. 

But how — for in his excitement the other words 
which his godmother had told him to use had slipped 


26 


The Little Lame Prince 


his memory, and the cloak only went faster and faster, 
skimming on through the dusky, empty air. 

The poor little Prince began to feel frightened. What 
if his wonderful traveling-cloak should keep on thus 
traveling, perhaps to the world’s end, carrying with it 
a poor, tired, hungry boy. 

‘‘Dear godmother,” he cried pitifully, “do help me! 
Tell me just this once and I’ll never forget again.” 

Instantly the words came to him and he repeated 
them. “Abracadabra, turn, turn, til” The cloak began 
to turn slowly, and immediately started back, as fast 
as ever, in the direction of the tower. 

The skylight he found exactly as he had left it, and 
he slipped in as easily as he had gotten out. He had 
scarcely reached the floor when he heard his nurse’s 
voice outside. 

“Bless us! what has become of your Royal Highness 
all this time? To sit stupidly here at the window until 
it is quite dark and leave the skylight open too. Prince, 
what can you be thinking of? You are the silliest boy 
I ever knew.” 

But he did not mind what she said. 

The instant Prince Dolor got off the cloak it folded 
itself up into a tiny parcel and rolled itself into the 
farthest corner of the room. If the nurse had seen it she 
would have taken it for a mere bundle of rubbish. She 
brought in the supper and lit the candles, her face as 
unhappy as usual. But Prince Dolor only saw, hidden 
in the corner where nobody else would see it, his won- 
derful traveling-cloak. He ate heartily, scarcely hear- 
ing his nurse’s grumbling. 

“Poor woman!” he thought, hasn’t a traveling- 
cloak!” 

And when he crept into his little bed, where he lay 
awake a good while watching the stars, his chief 
thought was, “I must be up very early to-morrow morn- 


The Little Lame Prince 


27 


ing and get my lessons done, and then I’ll go traveling 
all over the world on my beautiful cloak.” 

So, next day, he opened his eyes with the sun, and 
went with a good heart to his lessons, which for the 
first time he found dull, and the instant they were over 
he crept across the floor, undid the shabby little bundle, 
climbed on a chair, and thence to the table so as to unbar 
the skylight ; said his magic charm, and was away out of 
the window in a minute. 

He was accustomed to sit so quietly always, that his 
nurse, though only in the next room did not miss him, 
and she could not have missed him anyway for the 
clever godmother made an image, which she set on the 
window-sill reading and which looked so like Prince 
Dolor that any common observer would never have 
guessed the difference. 

And all this while the happy little fellow was away 
floating in the air on his magic cloak, and seeing all 
sorts of wonderful things — or they seemed wonderful 
to him, who had hitherto seen nothing at all. 

First, there were the flowers that grew on the plain, 
which, whenever the cloak came near enough, he 
strained his eyes to look at; they were tiny, but very 
beautiful. 

“I wonder,” he thought, “whether I could see better 
through a pair of glasses like those my nurse reads with, 
and takes such care of. How I should take care of them 
too! if only I had a pair!” 

Immediately he felt a pair of the prettiest gold spec- 
tacles ever seen ; and looking downwards, he found that, 
though ever so high above the ground, he could see 
every blade of grass, every tiny bud and flower — nay, 
even the insects that walked over them. 

“Thank you, thank you!” he cried to his dear god- 
mother, whom he felt sure had sent them. He amused 
himself for ever so long, gazing down upon the grass, 
every square foot of which was a mine of wonders. 


28 


The Little Lame Prince 


Then, just to rest his eyes, he turned them up to the 
sky, at which he had looked so often and seen nothing. 

Now he saw a long, black wavy line, moving on in the 
distance. Looking at it through his spectacles, he dis- 
covered that it was a long string of birds, flying one 
after the other, their wings moving steadily and their 
heads pointed in one direction, as steadily as if each 
were a little ship. 

“They must be the passage-birds flying seaward!” 
cried the boy, who had read a little about them. “Oh I 
how I should like to see them quite close, and to know 
where they come from, and where they are going!” 

The cloak gave a sudden bound forward, and he 
found himself high up in the air, in the very midst of 
the birds. 

“Oh I wish I were going with you, you lovely crea- 
tures!” cried the boy. “Fm getting so tired of this dull 
plain, and the dreary and lonely tower. I do so want 
to see the world! Pretty swallows, dear swallows, tell 
me what it looks like — the beautiful, wonderful world !” 

But the birds flew past and the boy looked after them 
with envy. Then he settled himself down in the centre 
of the cloak, feeling quite sad and lonely. 

“I think ril go home,” said he, and repeated his 
“Abracadabra, turn turn, ti!” with a rather heavy heart. 
The more he had, the more he wanted. 

He did not like to vex his godmother by calling for 
her, and telling her how unhappy he was, in spite of 
all her goodness; so he just kept his trouble to himself, 
went back to his lonely tower, and spent three days 
there without attempting another journey on his travel- 
ing-cloak. 


CHAPTER VI. 

The fourth day it happened that the deaf mute paid 
his accustomed visit, after which Prince Dolor’s spirits 
rose. They always did, when he got the new books, 
which the King of Nomansland regularly sent to his 
nephew. He paid no attention to the toys which were 
brought, as he considered himself a big boy. 

Prince Dolor leaned over and looked at the mute’s 
horse which was feeding at the foot of the tower and 
thought how grand it must be to get upon its back and 
ride away. 

‘‘Suppose I was a knight,” he said to himself; “then 
I should be obliged to ride out and see the world.” 

But he kept all these thoughts to himself, and just 
sat still, devouring his new books until he had come to 
end of them all. 

“I wonder,” he would sometimes think, — “I wonder 
what it feels like to be on the back of a horse, galloping 
away, or holding the reins in a carriage, and tearing 
across the country, or jumping a ditch, or running a 
race, such as I read of or see in pictures. What a lot of 
things there are that I should like to do! But first, I 
should like to go and see the world. I’ll try.” 

Apparently it was his godmother’s plan always to let 
him try, and try hard, before he gained anything. This 
day the knots that tied up his traveling-cloak were more 
than usually troublesome, and it was a full half hour 
before he got out into the open air, and found himself 
floating merrily over the top of the tower. 

Hitherto, in all his journeys he had never let himself 
go out of sight of home, but now he felt sick of the very 
look of his tower with its round smooth walls. 


29 


30 


The Little Lame Prince 


“Off we go!” cried he, when the cloak stirred itself 
with a slight slow motion, as if waiting his orders. 
“Anywhere — anywhere, so that I am away from here, 
and out into the world.” 

As he spoke, the cloak bounded forward and went 
skimming through the air, faster than the very fastest 
railway train. 

“Gee-up, gee-up!” cried Prince Dolor in great excite- 
ment. “This is as good as riding a horse,” and tossed 
his head back to meet the fresh breeze, and pulled his 
coat-collar up and his hat down, as he felt the wind 
grow keener and colder, colder than anything he had 
ever known. 

“What does it matter, though?” said he. “I’m a boy, 
and boys ought not to mind anything.” 

Still, by-and-by he began to shiver, and, as he had 
come away without his dinner, grew frightfully hun- 
gry. The sunshine changed to rain, and he got soaked 
through and through in a very few minutes. 

“Shall I turn back?” meditated he. “Suppose I say, 
^Abracadabra?’ ” 

Here he stopped, for already the cloak gave a lurch 
as if it were expecting to be sent home. 

“No — I can’t go back! I must go forward and see the 
world, but oh! if I had but the shabbiest old rug to 
shelter me from the rain, or the driest morsel of bread 
and cheese, just to keep me from starving! Still, I don’t 
much mind, I’m a prince and ought to be able to stand 
anything. Hold on, cloak, we’ll make the best of it.” 

No sooner had he said this than he felt stealing over 
his knees something warm and soft; in fact, a most 
beautiful bearskin, which folded itself round him and 
cuddled him up as closely as if he had been the cub of 
the kind old mother-bear that once owned it. Then 
feeling in his pocket, which suddenly stuck out in a 
marvelous way, he found, not exactly bread and 
cheese, nor even sandwiches, but a packet of the most 


The Little Lame Prince 


delicious food he had ever tasted. He ate his dinner 
until he grew so thirsty he did not know what to do. 

“Couldn’t I have just one drop of water, if it wouldn’t 
trouble you too much, kindest of godmother’s?” 

He considered this a difficult request to grant for he 
was so far from the ground that he could not expect to 
find a well. He forgot one thing — the rain. While he 
spoke, it came on in another wild burst, as if the clouds 
had poured themselves out in a passion of crying, wet- 
ting him certainly, but leaving behind in a large glass 
vessel which he had never noticed before, enough water 
to quench the thirst of two or three boys at least. And 
it was so fresh, so pure — as water from the clouds 
always is, that he drank it with the greatest delight. 

Also, as soon as it was empty, the rain filled it again, 
so that he was able to wash his face and hands. Then 
the sun came out and dried him in no time. After that 
he curled himself up under the bearskin rug and shut 
his eyes just for one minute. The next minute he was 
sound asleep. 

When he awoke, he found himself floating over a 
country quite unlike anything he had ever seen before. 

Yet it was nothing but what most of you children 
see every day and never notice — a pretty country land- 
scape. It had nothing in it grand or lovely — was sim- 
ply pretty, nothing more; yet to Prince Dolor who had 
never seen beyond the level plain, it appeared won- 
derful. 

First, there was a river, which came tumbling down 
the hillside. 

“It is so active, so alive! I like things active and 
alive !” cried he, and watched it shimmering and dan- 
cing, whirling and leaping. 

All this the boy saw, either with his own naked eye, 
or through his gold spectacles. He saw also as in a 
picture, beautiful but silent, many other things which 
struck him with wonder, especially a grove of trees. 


32 


The Little Lame Prince 


Only think, to have lived to his age and never have 
seen trees! As he floated over these oaks, they seemed 
to him the most curious sight imaginable. 

I could only get nearer, so as to touch them,” said 
he, and immediately the obedient cloak ducked down ; 
Prince Dolor made a snatch at the topmost twig of the 
tallest tree, and caught a bunch of leaves in his hand. 
Just a bunch of green leaves — such as we have seen 
many times, yet how wonderful they were to him, and 
he examined the leaves with the greatest curiosity, and 
also a little caterpillar that he found walking over one of 
them. He coaxed it to take a walk over his finger. It 
amused him for a long time ; and when a sudden gust of 
wind blew it overboard, leaves and all, he felt quite dis- 
consolate. 

^^Still there must be many live creatures in the world 
besides caterpillars. I should like to see a few of them.” 

The cloak gave a little slip down, as if to say, “All 
right. My Prince,” and bore him across the oak forest 
to a long fertile valley. It was made up of cornfields, 
pasture fields, brooks, and ponds, and in it were a quan- 
tity of living creatures, wild and tame. Cows, 
horses, lambs and sheep fed in the meadows, pigs and 
fowls walked about the barnyards. In lonelier places 
were rabbits, wild birds inhabited the fields and woods. 

Through his wonderful spectacles the Prince could 
see everything, but he was too high up to hear anything 
except a faint murmur, which only aroused his anxiety 
to hear more. 

“I wonder if my godmother would give me a second 
pair of ears?” he said. 

Scarcely had he spoken, than he found lying on his 
lap the most curious little parcel, all done up in silver 
paper. And it contained a pair of silver ears, which, 
when he tried them on, fitted so exactly over his own, 
that he hardly felt them, except for the difference they 
made in his hearing. 





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The Little Lame Prince 

The sound which greeted his ears is one which we 
have heard many times, but Prince Dolor, who had 
lived all his days in the dead silence of Hopeless Tower, 
heard it for the first time. And oh! If you had seen 
his face. 

He listened, and listened, and looked and looked. The 
motion of the animals delighted him; cows walking, 
horses galloping, little lambs and calves running races 
across the meadows, were a great treat for him to watch. 

“Godmother,” he said, having now begun to believe 
that, whether he saw her or not, she could hear him — 
“Godmother, I should like better to see a creature like 
myself. Couldn’t you show me just one little boy?” 

Suddenly, a shrill whistle startled him, even through 
his silver ears, and looking downwards, he saw start up 
from behind a bush on a common, something — 

Neither a sheep, nor a horse, nor a cow — nothing 
upon four legs. This creature had only two; but they 
were long, straight and strong. And it had a lithe active 
body, and a curly head of black hair. It was a boy about 
the Prince’s own age — but, oh! so different. His face 
was almost as red as his hands, and his shaggy hair was 
matted like the backs of the sheep he was tending. But 
he was a rather nice-looking lad ; and seemed so bright 
and healthy and “jolly,” that the little Prince watched 
him with great admiration. 

“Might he come and play with me? I would drop 
down to the ground to him, or fetch him up to me.” 

But the cloak, usually so obedient, disobeyed him 
now. There was evidently some things which his god- 
mother could or would not give. The cloak hung high 
in air, never attempting to descend. The shepherd lad 
took it for a large bird, and shading his eyes, looked up 
at it, then turned round and stretched himself, for he 
had been half asleep, and his dog had been guarding the 
sheep. 


34 


The Little Lame Prince 


The boy called to the dog and they started ofif to- 
gether for a race across the fields. Prince Dolor 
watched them with great excitement, for a while, then 
the sweet, pale face grew a trifle paler, the lips began to 
quiver and the eyes to fill. 

‘^How nice it must be to run like that!” he said softly, 
thinking that never — no, never in this world — would 
he be able to do the same. 

‘T think I had rather not look at him again,” said the 
poor little Prince, drawing himself back into the centre 
of his cloak, and resuming his favorite posture, sitting 
like a Turk, with his arms wrapped around his feeble 
useless legs. 

‘‘You’re no good to me,” he said, patting them mourn- 
fully. “You never will be any good to me. I wonder 
why I have you at all ; I wonder why I was born at all, 
since I was not to grow up like other little boys.” 

Prince Dolor sat a good while thus, and seemed to 
grow years older in a few minutes. 

Then he fancied the cloak began to rock gently to and 
fro, with a soothing kind of motion, as if he were in 
somebody’s arms; somebody who did not speak, but 
loved and comforted him without need of words. 

He had placed himself so he could see nothing but 
the sky, and had taken off his silver ears, as well as his 
gold spectacles — what was the use of either when he 
had no legs to walk or run? — Up from below there 
rose a delicious sound. 

You have heard it hundreds of times, my children, 
and so have L When I was a child I thought there was 
nothing so sweet; and I think so still. It was just the 
song of a lark, mounting higher and higher, until it 
came so close that Prince Dolor could distinguish its 
quivering wings and tiny body, almost too tiny to con- 
tain such a gush of music. 

“Oh, you beautiful, beautiful bird!” cried he; “I 


The Little Lame Prince 


should dearly like to take you in and cuddle you. That 
is, if I might— if I dared.” 

He was so absorbed that he forget all regret and pain^ 
forgot everything in the world except the little lark^ 
and he was just wondering if it would soar out of sights 
when it suddenly closed its wings, as larks do when 
they mean to drop to the ground. But, instead of drop- 
ping to the ground, it dropped right into the little boy’s 
breast. 

When he came in sight of Hopeless Tower, a painful 
thought struck him. 

“My pretty bird, what am I to do with you? If I 
take you into my room and shut you up there, you will 
surely die for I heard my nurse once say that the nicest 
thing she ever ate in her life was lark pie!” 

The little boy shivered all over at the thought, and 
in another minute he had made up his mind. 

“No, my bird, nothing so dreadful shall happen to 
you if I can help it; I would rather do without you 
altogether. Fly away, my darling! Good-bye my 
merry, merry bird.” 

Opening his two caressing hands, in which, as for 
protection, he had folded it, he let the lark go. It lin- 
gered a minute, perched on the rim of the cloak, and 
looked at him with eyes of almost human tenderness; 
then away it flew. 

But, sometime after, when Prince Dolor had eaten 
his supper, and gone to bed, suddenly he heard outside 
the window a little faint carol — faint but cheerful — 
even though it was the middle of the night. 

The dear little lark, it had not flown away after all, 
but had remained about the tower and he listened to its 
singing and went to sleep very happy. 


CHAPTER VII. 


After this journey which had given the Prince so 
much pain, his desire to see the world had somehow 
faded away. He contented himself with reading his 
books, and looking out of the tower windows, and listen- 
ing to his beloved little lark, which had come home 
with him that day, and had never left him again. 

True, it kept out of the way; but though his nurse 
sometimes faintly heard it, and said, “What is that 
horrid noise outside?” she never got the faintest chance 
to make the lark into a pie. 

All during the winter the little bird cheered and 
amused him. He scarcely needed anything more — not 
even his traveling cloak, which lay bundled unnoticed 
in a corner, tied up in its many knots. 

Prince Dolor was now a big boy. Not tall — alas! 
he never could be that, with his poor little shrunken 
legs. But he was stout and strong, with great sturdy 
shoulders, and muscular arms, upon which he could 
swing himself about almost as well as a monkey. His 
face, too, was very handsome; thinner, firmer, more 
manly; but still the sweet face of his childhood — his 
mother’s own face. 

The boy was not a stupid boy either. He could learn 
almost anything he chose — and he did choose, which 
was more than half the battle. He never gave up his 
lessons until he had learned them all — never thought 
it a punishment that he had to work at them, and that 
they cost him a deal of trouble sometimes. 

“But,” thought he, “men work, and it must be so 
grand to be a man; — a prince to; and I fancy princes 
work harder than anybody — except kings. The princes 

36 


The Little Lame Prince 


X7 


I read about generally turn into kings. I wonder’’ — 
the boy was always wondering — ‘‘Nurse” — and one day 
he startled her with a sudden question — “tell me — shall 
I ever be a king?” 

The woman stood, perplexed beyond expression. So 
long a time had passed by since her crime — if it were a 
crime — and her sentence, that she now seldom thought 
of either. She had even grown used to her punishment. 
And the little prince whom she at first hated, she 
had learned to love — at least, enough to feel sorry for 
him. 

The Prince noticed that her feeling toward him was 
changing and did not shrink from her. 

“Nurse — dear nurse,” said he, one day, “I don’t 
mean to vex you, but tell me — ^what is a king?” Shall I 
ever be one?” 

Then the idea came to her — ^what harm would it be, 
even if he did know his own history? Perhaps he ought 
to know it — for there had been many changes in No- 
mansland, as in most other countries. Something might 
happen — who could tell? Possibly a crown would yet 
be set upon those pretty, fair curls — ^which she began to 
think prettier than ever when she saw the imaginary 
crown upon them. 

She sat down, considering whether her oath, “never to 
say a word to Prince Dolor about himself,” would be 
broken, if she were to take a pencil and write, what was 
to be told. It was a miserable deception. But then, she 
was an unhappy woman, more to be pitied than scorned. 

After long doubt, she put her finger to her lips, and 
taking the Prince’s slate — with a sponge tied to it, ready 
to rub out the writing in a minute — she wrote: 

“You are a king.” 

Prince Dolor started. His face grew pale and then 
flushed all over; his eyes glistened; he held himself 
erect. Lame as he was, anybody could see he was born 
to be a king. 


38 


The Little Lame Prince 


“Hush!” said the nurse, as he was beginning to 
speak. And then, terribly frightened all the while, 
she wrote down in a few sentences, his history. How 
his parents had died, how his uncle had stolen the 
throne, and sent him to end his days in this lonely 
tower. 

“I, too,” added she, bursting into tears. “Unless, in- 
deed, you could get out into the world, and fight for 
your rights like a man. And fight for me also. My 
Prince, that I may not die in this desolate place.” 

“Poor old nurse,” said the boy tenderly. For some- 
how, boy as he was, when he heard he was born to be a 
king, he felt like a man — like a king — who could afford 
to be tender because he was strong. 

He scarcely slept that night, and barely listened to 
the singing of the lark. Things more important were 
in his mind. 

“Suppose,” thought he, “I were to go into the world, 
no matter how it hurts me. The people might only 
laugh at me, but still I might show them I could do 
something. At any rate, I might go and see if there was 
anything for me to do. Godmother, help me!” 

It was so long since he had asked for help, that he was 
hardly surprised when he got no answer. He sprang 
out of bed, dressed himself, and leaped to the corner 
where lay his traveling-cloak and unrolled it. 

Then he jumped into the middle of it, said his charm, 
and was out through the skylight immediately. 

“Good-bye, pretty lark!” he shouted, as he passed it 
on the wing. “You have been my pleasure, now I must 
20 and work. Sing to old nurse until I come back again. 
Good-bye 1 ” 

But as the cloak hung motionless in air, he suddenly 
remembered that he had not made up his mind where 
to go — indeed, he did not know, and there was nobody 
to tell him. 

“Godmother,” he cried, “you know what I want. 


The Little Lame Prince 


.'^9 


Tell me where I ought to go ; show me whatever I ought 
to see — never mind what I like.” 

This journey was not for pleasure as before. He was 
not a baby now, to do nothing but play. Men work, this 
much Prince Dolor knew. As the cloak started off, over 
freezing mountain tops, and desolate forests, smiling 
plains and great lakes, he was often rather frightened. 
But he crouched down, and wrapping himself up in his 
bear-skin waited for what was to happen. 

After some-time he heard a murmur in the distance, 
and stretching his chin over the edge of the cloak, 
Prince Dolor saw — far, far below him, yet with his 
gold spectacles and silver ears on he could distinctly 
hear and see — a great city! 

Suppose you were to see a large city from the upper 
air; where, with your ears and eyes open, you could 
take in everything at once. What would it look like? 
How would you feel about it? I hardly know myself. 
Do you? 

Prince Dolor was as bewildered as a blind person 
who is suddenly made to see. 

He gazed down on the city below him, and then put 
his hand over his eyes. 

‘T can’t bear to look at it, it is so beautiful — so 
dreadful. And I don’t understand it — not one bit. I 
wish I had some one to tell me about it.” 

“Do you? Then pray speak to me.” 

The voice that squeaked out this reply came from a 
great black and white bird that flew into the cloak and 
began walking round and round on the edge of it with 
a dignified stride. 

“I haven’t the honor of your acquaintance,” said the 
boy politely. 

“My name is Mag and I shall be happy to tell you 
everything you want to know. My family is very old ; 
we have builded in this palace for many years. I am well 
acquainted with the King, the Queen, and the little 


40 


The Little Lame Prince 


princes and princesses — also the maids of honor, and 
all the inhabitants of the city. I talk a great deal, but 
I always talk sense, and I dare say I shall be very use- 
ful to a poor, little, ignorant boy like you.” 

“I am a prince,” said the other gently. 

“All right. And I am a magpie.’ 

She settled herself at his elbow and began to chatter 
away, pointing out with one skinny claw every object 
of interest, evidently believing, as no doubt all its in- 
habitants did, that there was no city in the world like 
the great capital of Nomansland. 

Mag said that it was the finest city in the world but 
there were a few things in it that surprised Prince 
Dolor. One half the people seemed so happy and 
contented and the other half were so poor and miser- 
able. I would try to make it a little more equal if I 
were king,” he said. 

“But you’re not the king,” returned the magpie loft- 
ily. “Shall I show you the royal palace?” 

It was a magnificent palace covering many acres of 
ground. It had terraces and gardens; battlements and 
towers. But since the Queen died the windows 
through which she looked at the Beautiful Mountains, 
had been closed and boarded up. The room was so 
little that no one cared to use it. 

“I should like to see the King,” said Prince Dolor, 
and as he spoke Mag flew down to the palace roof, 
where the cloak rested, settling down between the great 
stocks of chimneys as comfortably as if on the ground. 
Mag pecked at the tiles with her beak and immediately 
a little hole opened, a sort of door, through which 
could be seen distinctly the chamber below. 

“Now pop down on your knees and take a peep at 
his Majesty.” 

The Prince gazed eagerly down, into a large room, 
the largest room he had ever beheld, with furniture 
and hangings grander than anything he could have 









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HE LIFTED UP HIS THIN, SLENDER HAND, AND THERE CAME A SI- 
LENCE OVER THE VAST CROWD IMMEDIATELY. [PAGE 47.] 




The Little Lame Prince 


41 


ever imagined. A sunbeam struck across the carpet 
and it looked like a bed of flowers. 

^Where is the King?” asked the puzzled boy. 

“There,” said Mag, pointing with one wrinkled 
claw to a magnificent bed, large enough to contain six 
people. In the centre of it quite straight and still with 
its head on the lace pillow lay a small figure, some- 
thing like waxwork, fast asleep. There were a num- 
ber of sparkling rings on the tiny yellow hands; the 
eyes were shut, and the nose looked sharp and thin, 
and the long grey beard hid the mouth, and lay over 
the breast. Two little flies buzzing about the curtains 
of the bed was the only audible sound. 

“Is that the King?” whispered Prince Dolor. 

“Yes,” replied the bird. 

He had been angry ever since he learned how his 
uncle had taken the crown and had felt as if, king as he 
was, he should like to strike him, this great, strong 
wicked man. 

Why, you might as well have struck a baby! How 
helpless he lay! with his eyes shut, and his idle hands 
folded ; they had no more work to do, bad or good. 

“What is the matter with him?” asked the Prince. 

“He is dead,” said the magpie with a croak. 

No, there was not the least use in being angry with 
him now. On the contrary, the Prince felt almost 
sorry for him. 

“What shall we do now?” asked the magpie. 
“There’s nothing much more to be done with his Maj- 
esty, except a funeral. Suppose we float up again at a 
safe distance and see it all. It will be such fun. 
There will be a great row in the city and I wonder who 
we shall have in his place? 

“What will be fun?” 

“A Revolution.” 

As soon as the Cathedral bell began to toll, and the 
minute guns to fire, announcing to the Kingdom that 


42 


The Little Lame Prince 


it was without a king, the people gathered in crowds. 
The murmur now and then rose into a shout, and the 
shout into a roar. When Prince Dolor, quietly float- 
ing in the upper air, caught the sound of their different 
and opposite cries, it seemed to him as if the whole city 
had gone mad together. 

“Long live the King!” “The King is dead — down 
with the King!” “Down with the crown and the King 
too!” “Hurrah for the Republic!” “Hurrah for no 
government at all.” 

Such were the shouts which came up to him and then 
began, oh! what a scene! The country was in a revo- 
lution. Soldiers were shooting down people by hun- 
dreds in the streets, scaffolds were being erected, heads 
dropping off, houses burned, and women and chil- 
dren murdered. 

Prince Dolor saw it all. Things happened so fast 
after one another that he nearly lost his senses. 

“Oh, let me go home,” he cried at last, stopping his 
ears and shutting his eyes, “Only let me go home!” for 
even his lonely tower and its dreariness and silence, 
was absolute paradise after this. 

Prince Dolor fell into a kind of swoon and when he 
awoke he found himself in his own room. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Next morning when Prince Dolor awoke he per- 
ceived that his room was empty. 

Very uncomfortable he felt, of course; and just a 
little frightened. Especially when he began to call 
again and again, but nobody answered. 

“Nurse — ^dear nurse — please come back!” he called 
out. “Come back, and I will be the best boy in all the 
land.” 

And when she did not come back, and nothing but 
silence answered his lamentable call, he very nearly 
began to cry. 

“This won’t do,” he said at last, dashing the tears 
from his eyes. “It’s just like a baby, and I’m a big 
boy — shall be a man some day. What has happened^ 
I wonder? I’ll go and see.” 

He sprang out of bed and crawled from room to 
room on his knees. 

“What in the world am I to do?” thought he, and 
sat down in the middle of the floor, half inclined to be- 
lieve that it would be better to give up entirely, lay 
himself down and die. 

This feeling, however, did not last long. He jumped 
up and looked out of the window. No help there. 
At first he only saw the broad bleak sunshiny plain. 
But, by-and-by, in the mud around the base of the 
tower he saw clearly the marks of horses’ feet, and just 
in the spot where the deaf mute always tied his great 
black charger, there lay the remains of a bundle of hay. 

“Yes, that’s it. He has come and gone, taking nurse 
with him. Poor nurse! how glad she must have been to 
go!” 


41 


44 


The Little Lame Prince 


That was Prince Dolor’s first thought. His second 
was one of indignation at her cruelty. 

He decided that it would be easier to die here alone 
than out in the world, among the terrible doings which 
he had just beheld. 

The deaf mute had come — contrived somehow to 
make the nurse understand that the king was dead, and 
that she need have no fear in going back to the capital. 

“I hope she’ll enjoy it,” said the Prince. 

And then a kind of remorse smote him for feeling so 
bitterly towards her, after all the years she had taken 
care of him — grudgingly, perhaps, still, she had taken 
care of him. 

For the second time he tried to dress himself, and 
then to do everything he could for himself — even to 
sweeping the hearth and putting on more coals. 

He then thought of his godmother. Not of calling 
her or asking her to help him — she had evidently left 
him to help himself, and he was determined to try his 
best to do it, being a very proud and independent boy 
— but he remembered her tenderly. 

After his first despair, he was comfortable and happy 
in his solitude, but when it was time to go to bed, he 
was very lonely, even his little lark was silent and as 
for his traveling cloak, either he never thought about 
it, or else it had been spirited away — for he made no 
use of it, nor attempted to do so. 

On the sixth day, Prince Dolor had a strange con- 
tented look in his face. Get out of the tower he could 
not; the ladder the deaf mute used was always carried 
away again and his food was nearly gone. So he made 
up his mind to die. Not that he wished to die; on the 
contrary, there was a great deal that he wished to live 
to do. Dying did not seem so very dreadful ; not even 
to lie quietly like his uncle, whom he had entirely for- 
given now. 

“Suppose I had grown to be a man, and had had 


The Little Lame Prince 41; 

work to do, and people to care for, and was so useful 
and busy that they liked me, and perhaps even forgot 
that I was lame. Then, it w^ould have been nice to have 
lived, I think,” and tears came into the little fellow’s 
eyes. Then he heard a trumpet, one of the great silver 
trumpets so admired in Nomansland. Not pleasant 
music, but very bold and grand. 

The poor condemned woman had not oeen such a 
wicked woman after all. As soon as she heard of the 
death of the King, she persuaded the deaf-mute to take 
her away with him, and they galloped like the wind 
from city to city, spreading everywhere the news that 
Prince Dolor’s death and burial had been an invention 
concocted by his wicked uncle — that he was alive and 
well, and the noblest young Prince that ever was born. 

It was a bold stroke, but it succeeded. People 
jumped at the idea of this Prince, who was the son of 
their late good King and Queen. 

‘‘Hurrah for Prince Dolor! Let him be our king!” 
rang from end to end of the kingdom. They were de- 
termined to have him reign over them. Accordingly 
no sooner was the late king laid in his grave than they 
pronounced him a usurper; turned all his family out of 
the palace, and left it empty for the reception of the 
new sovereign, whom they went to fetch with great re- 
joicing. 

They hailed him with delight, as prince and king 
and went down on their knees before him, offering the 
crown to him. 

“Yes,” he said, “if you desire it, I will be your king. 
And I will do my best to make my people happy.” 

“Oh! said he, “if before I go, I could only see my 
dear godmother.” He gazed sadly up to the skylight, 
whence there came pouring a stream of sunrays like 
a bridge between heaven and earth. Sliding down it, 
came the little woman in grey. 

He held out his arms in eager delight. 

“Oh, godmother, you have not forsaken me!” 


46 


The Little Lame Prince 


“Not at all my son. You may not have seen me, but 
I have seen you many a time.” 

“How?” 

“Oh, never mind. I can turn into anything I please 
you know.” 

“A lark, for instance,” cried Prince Dolor. 

“Or a Magpie,” answered she with a capital imita- 
tion of Mag’s croaky voice. 

“You will not leave me now that I am king? Other- 
wise I had rather not be a king at all,” said he. 

The little old woman laughed gaily. “Forsake 
you? That is impossible. But now I must go. Good- 
bye! Open the window and out I fly.” 

Prince Dolor tried to hold his godmother fast, but 
in vain. A knocking was heard at the door, and the 
little woman vanished. 

His godmother helped him out of many difficulties 
for there was never such a wise old woman. 

He was very happy and contented; first, because he 
took his affliction patiently; second, because being a 
brave man, he bore it bravely. Therefore other people 
grew to love him so well, that I think hundreds of his 
subjects might have been found who were almost ready 
to die for their poor lame king. 

He did a good many things, however, which a little 
astonished his subjects. First, he pardoned the con- 
demned woman, who had been his nurse and ordered 
that there should be no such thing as the death punish- 
ment in Nomansland. 

Then he chose the eldest son of his eldest cousin, a 
quiet, unobtrusive boy, to be educated as heir to the 
throne. 

In course of time, when the little prince had grown 
into a tall young man. King Dolor fixed a day when 
the people should assemble in the great square of the 
capital to see the young prince installed solemnly in his 
new duties. 


The Little Lame Prince 


47 


The king lifted up his thin slender hand and there 
came a silence over the vast crowd immediately as he 
pronounced the vows which made the young prince 
king. 

“My people he said, I am tired; I want to rest; it is 
time for me to go and I do not think I shall come 
back any more. He drew a little bundle out of his 
breast pocket. Then, so suddenly that even those near- 
est to his Majesty could not tell how, the king was away 
— ^floating right up in the air — upon something they 
knew not what. Whither he went or who went with 
him it is impossible to say, but I myself believe that his 
godmother took him on his traveling cloak to the Beau 
tiful Mountains. 










